Size: 6.00 x 9.00 in
His greatest adventure is about to catch up with him.
On a journey fraught with danger, a freedom-loving adventurer and an avowed spinster battle over the destiny of a young boy, who is doing his level best to convince them they belong together.
June 2, 1870, Atchison, Kansas
“What you layin’ in there for, mister?”
A childish voice disturbed Huck’s sleep. He screwed his eyes tightly shut, willing his mind to return to dreams of pleasanter things than inquisitive children.
Something struck the bottom of his boot.
He jerked awake, his head connecting with a crack against the inside of the hogshead barrel. “Ow! Blame it.”
Gingerly, he touched a rising lump and grimaced at the painful reminder of where he’d ended up. After celebrating into the wee hours, it appeared a convenient place to await the next packet chugging up the Missouri River. Sobriety declared it a bad idea. Only halfwits and drunks slept in discarded barrels. Not men who commanded steamboats.
Curling around, he squinted at the opening where his legs were exposed.
Daylight outlined the figure of a child.READ MORE
Hopeful it was just a dream, Huck shut his eyes.
When he opened them again, the boy had bent to peer inside the barrel. Gap-toothed smile, snub nose, merry eyes that held the promise of mischief…
“Tom?” Huck rasped.
The boy giggled.
No, he couldn’t possibly be. Tom had been nearly full-grown fifteen years ago.
Huck rubbed his stinging eyes. He must’ve gotten ahold of some bad brew like the Fire Rod his old man used to swig by the jug full; that stuff made Pap see crazier things than a boy that wasn’t there.
The spitting image of Tom laughed again. “Uncle Huck?”
Huck shook his head to clear it. By God, he’d swear off whiskey forever if it brought on these strange imaginings, and it had to be his imagination. Huck Finn weren’t nobody’s uncle.COLLAPSE